


Distance in Close Quarters

by thisiswhyishouldntwritefanfic



Series: Relative Innocence [8]
Category: Heathers (1988)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother-Sister Relationships, Complicated Relationships, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Mutual Pining, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-20 06:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13712046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswhyishouldntwritefanfic/pseuds/thisiswhyishouldntwritefanfic
Summary: JD and Veronica do an awkward dance around each other as they attempt to live in the same apartment.With Enid around to complicate things and make commentary on the situation, of course.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, I have decided that I have to do little sort of fluffy things in this world, which is kind of odd because it's usually a lot darker.
> 
> I have no idea. My brain is a weird, messed up place.
> 
> I will blame some lyrics this time around:
> 
> _And I will make sure to keep my distance,_  
>  _Say I love you when you're not listening,_  
>  _How long, can we keep this up, up, up?_  
>  _Please don't stand so close to me_  
>  _I'm having trouble breathing._  
>  _I'm afraid of what you'll see right now._
> 
>  
> 
> ~Christina Perri, "Distance"

* * *

He had a spectacular talent for plans that backfired in epic ways.

He knew this. His most impressive failure had to be the disaster that was his attempt to blow up Westerburg High, but that didn't mean that he didn't have a very long list of the other ways things had gone wrong, from simple mistakes to what could only be described as cluster fucks.

Moving in with Veronica should not fall into that last category, but after less than a week living in the same penthouse, he was sure that it did, if only in the sense of the havoc it was wrecking on their respective lives.

On the outside, it didn't look like much of anything was happening, not to anyone else, not even with the damned pretense they were under thanks to his baby sister. Enid had rolled her eyes at him taking the bedroom at the other end of the building from Veronica's, trying to tell him that they didn't fool anyone, and he'd just looked at her until she caved and said she was sorry, though if the amount of buzzing coming from her phone was any indication, she'd been talking it up with Veronica's friends plenty ever since they moved in.

Still, things remained platonic, which he kept assuring himself was for the best. He wasn't really sure about this staying in one place thing, seeing as he had every reason to go back to being a dead man living almost completely off the grid, every reason but the two people who also lived—well, Enid's room was not her main residence, but that didn't change the fact that she had a room here, too—in this same building.

The trouble was trying to define the line between him and the one who was not his sister. Enid was pretty easy to get along with—give her a coffee or a quaggan and she was good, sometimes a slushie was enough, and so he had no real problems there, even when she threw things at him and claimed she hated him.

Veronica... that was another story, one that seemed to be written in a foreign language half the time. He knew her, even with the intervening years, and some of the things that had attracted him to her back then were still very much there. Watching her come back from where her last case with the FBI had put her, reclaiming her strength and her intuition, that was impressive as hell, all the more so because he'd been falling apart at the seams while she did it.

He was weak in comparison, and he hated it.

Oh, he didn't show it. That had never been his style, not when he was trapped with his father or after he met her or when he got free and had no idea what the hell to do with his life. He supposed when he was addicted he was obvious, but that was different. He hadn't been in control then, and that weakness was one he'd battled and mostly overcome since.

Not that he hadn't had a hard time pulling himself off the meds after getting stabbed again, but he was off, he was sober, and he was doing... fine.

Relatively speaking, at least.

He'd devoted himself to being a model roommate, trying not to leave his meager possessions out in any of the shared areas. He didn't complain about Veronica's time in the bathroom—since when was she so long in the shower, anyway? He'd never known her to spend that much time in the bathroom getting ready, not in the past and not even when she was getting ready to meet her ex-husband.

JD grimaced. He did not need to think about that, as it made him look like the obsessed stalker type he tried hard not to be, but the thing was, he never would have forgiven himself if she'd married a complete creep—which got complicated because he knew he was bad for her and still wanted her anyway—so he'd had to make sure Hanson treated her decent.

That was the past. Now he was being a good neighbor and roommate, and he figured that would be enough to make things easier, if not better.

He'd even thought it was more or less working until that incident in the kitchen. Breakfast was supposed to be a simple thing—okay, he'd gotten as fancy as he knew how with the eggs, but he was actually proud of that meal since he'd mostly made it up himself, based on stuff his mom used to make and improving on it.

Veronica had taken it too far, and the idea that it was a mere pathetic attempt at seducing her rankled him, leaving him in a sour mood for days. 

Not that he'd shown it. He'd forced his way through the day without any sign it was eating at him. He still made meals for them, kept his space clean, and didn't do those stereotypical things that women on television found so annoying about men who shared their bathrooms.

Everything was fine.

He wanted to get in his car and drive across the country, bury himself in dozens of shell companies and aliases and go completely offline and off the grid again, but he was perfectly fine.

* * *

JD was driving her crazy, and he wasn't doing anything wrong.

That was a strange thing to say, but it was true. JD had been a surprisingly thoughtful roommate. He cleaned up after himself, didn't do those annoying bathroom things that were the stuff of horror stories or comedy routines, and he _cooked._ That was probably one of the worst things he could do, not because he was bad at it but because he was good at it. 

That was like... torture. He shouldn't be a good cook.

She was talking about her psychotic ex-boyfriend who'd killed people and tried to blow up their school, and he was not supposed to be good at something so... normal.

It didn't help that she'd never really taken to cooking and would much rather let him prepare all the meals. He didn't bother asking her about the menu, which should irritate her, but in the time since they'd moved in and he'd unofficially assumed kitchen duty, he had yet to make something she refused to eat, and even the stuff she was a little leery of ended up okay.

For someone who'd seemed to think a turbo dog was the height of cuisine when they met, he'd come a long way.

He'd come a long way in other respects, too, which was unsettling at best.

She'd moved in with him figuring that even Enid's token bedroom wouldn't be enough to keep him from pushing that envelope, always trying to get more from her than what she was willing to give, and yet he hadn't. Yes, they still flirted, but when she looked back on those times, she had the sinking feeling that she'd initiated most of them.

Maybe even all of them.

She had told herself she was not getting involved with him again, and she meant it. No, she didn't want him dead, and she didn't want him broken by sadistic killers that were far worse than he'd ever been, but that didn't mean she was dating him again or marrying him, no matter what his sister did or how she pushed their fake engagement.

Veronica fiddled with the ring on her finger and grimaced. She was not sure what she was going to do, not when she had no real good reason to say they needed separate homes. It wasn't like they didn't have their own space or that he'd broken any boundaries.

She'd thought he had—and she did, that morning when he made her eggs and her body apparently decided that was all she needed to throw away everything sane and try to seduce him that time around.

She'd even figured on that ending a lot more awkwardly than it had when it didn't deteriorate into sex. They'd laughed, he'd finished his meal in his room and taken the temptation away from her, which led to her taking a very long and very cold shower, and her eggs had been a lot less appealing by the time she was done with that.

All and all, that was better for both of them. She knew that. They should not be involved, and in a little while, they could stage a breakup for the sake of her friends and end the pretense for good. They'd even be free to go completely separate ways by then, especially if the business continued to be like it had been so far—nonexistent.

She rubbed the back of her neck. This tension was because they weren't doing anything. It gave her too much time to think about her living situation, which was not something she needed to do. As long as they weren't fighting, she didn't need to worry about sharing the apartment.

Things were good.

She caught JD looking at her again across the room, and even though it wasn't like he was staring at her with lust—if anything, he looked thoughtful, a bit confused, and then he looked away without speaking, going back to the book he was reading.

That. That was just so wrong, too. Oh, Enid had told her that he read psychology books, but it was still a shock to Veronica's system to see him sprawled out on the couch, thumbing through one and making notes.

The glasses made it even worse. JD had never struck her as the type of guy who'd admit to needing glasses, since he'd been raised in the age when glasses equaled nerd and a death sentence in the cutthroat world of high school politics, but he had them now and wore them without any thought or embarrassment.

And he looked _good_ in them.

Veronica wanted to smack her head into something at that thought. She was not supposed to be admiring JD in that way. In any way, even if he was turning out to be a decent roommate in almost every respect.

She really had to stop thinking about the tight t-shirt from the other morning and was glad he'd gone over to mostly lounge wear since, the ultimate in unflattering clothing in sweatpants—though when they weren't paired with a too large sweater, she had a hard time focusing on other things again.

She just needed work to focus on. That was it. As soon as they had a real job, all of this would go away and they'd be perfectly fine.

* * *

Enid had decided they all needed an intervention. It wasn't hard to see that things weren't going well around here, didn't take a genius—though there were three of them here, twiddling their thumbs and going slowly insane—and they needed a change. If Jay got any more restless, he'd leave, and Veronica looked like she was desperate enough to go back to the FBI.

They were all sorts of weird with each other right now, too, though on the surface it didn't seem like it. Jay was acting way too damned nice, and in Enid's experience, that was never a good sign—he got super polite to the people he intended to make pay—and he was dangerous when he was unoccupied, but then he usually had a steady-ish stream of clients as Judas Dane.

People were almost always suckers for psychics, and while he didn't actually do the suckering, not so much, he did at least interview someone once a day, even if he didn't do any real work for them. That was how he'd found that gaslighting thing. He'd talked to them, dismissed them, and spent the afternoon puzzling over it until he figured out what it was and set off to prove it.

Strange as that one was, it was kind of fun.

Watching him try to stave off boredom by reading updated versions of the psychology books she swore he must have memorized by now was not fun.

Veronica was worse. She didn't even have a hobby to fall back on, near as Enid could tell.

“We are having a movie marathon.”

Jay looked up from his book, taking off his glasses and rubbing his nose. “No.”

“Oh, what, JD, are you afraid she'll subject you to some excessively girly and romantic piece that your fragile masculinity can't handle?”

“I think you like my masculinity just fine and don't think it's the least bit fragile,” Jay told her with a smirk, watching her go red. “I was objecting to the movies as I'm almost certain I'll be subjected to something with subtitles, and I can't take the eyestrain right now—and yes, Niddie, the Lord of the Rings counts as subtitles.”

“It's Elvish.”

“And they sing. No.”

Enid rolled her eyes. “Fine. You pick the movies, but we are watching something. We are doing something different for a change.”

“Movies are different from what you do at your desk all day?” Jay asked, giving her a calculated look. “Exactly how much time do you spend on Netflix watching anime anyway?”

“If I was actually getting paid for this, you could complain about that, but as we are not working and I am therefore not getting paid, you can shut it. Now, what are we watching?”

Jay snorted, rising from his chair. “I never agreed to watching anything.”

“Oh, come on,” Veronica said. “We'll make some popcorn, have some slushies—you did buy that machine for a reason—and have a fun night in for a change. Enid's right. We should do something different.”

“You two are agreeing on something. I do not like this. We must find Enid a significant other so I am no longer outnumbered.”

Enid snorted. “Any guy I date better not side with my brother against me.”

“Ah, so we see the truth at last. Enid's been pining for someone. That's why she wants to watch movies. She needs to lose herself in the cinematic experience and pretend that epic love scene playing out on screen is hers.”

“I fucking hate you right now and take back all invitations to movie night,” Enid said, turning to Veronica. “You're still invited, but he's not.”

“Wow,” Veronica said. “I think you hit a nerve, JD.”

“I take it back. I hate both of you.”

He laughed. “Oh, please, baby sis. You make it too easy. Though Veronica will be very disappointed when I tell you I think it's fine to adopt a pet from the local shelter.”

Veronica turned to him, frowning. “You're joking, right?”

“Enid takes attachment to pets very seriously. I think it's an only child thing,” Jay told her. “And that reminds me—all animal related movies are off the table.”

Enid rolled her eyes. “Fine. We'll watch something stupid and inaccurate.”

“That's every movie in Hollywood.”

“I hate you, Jay. I really hate you.”

“Would you forgive me if I said we could watch _Spaceballs?”_

“Maybe.”

* * *

Somehow, Enid's movie marathon ended up with her asleep halfway through the second movie of the night, though Veronica wasn't sure she blamed her, since JD had stuck _History of the World Part One_ as the follow up to _Spaceballs,_ leaving Enid obviously bored, and since she'd been banned from doing anything on a tablet or her phone, she fell asleep quickly.

Veronica suspected that was on purpose, since no one in their right mind picked _History_ over _Blazing Saddles_ or _Young Frankenstein._ It wasn't like it was a terrible movie, but there were much better ones, that was for sure.

She knew she wished she was a bit more interested in the movie and not paying as much attention to the man watching it with her. Enid had slumped on his shoulder, and he hadn't bothered to move her, as much as he clearly disliked older brother pillow duty. He kept fidgeting under her, but Enid didn't wake, so he just left her where she was.

The whole thing was strangely adorable, and Veronica didn't like herself much for the thoughts she had that were not at all PG about him. He was being sweet, and that should not make her feel like ruining the whole thing by coming onto him.

She was _not_ doing that again.

Even if a part of her really did regret not eloping when they were in Vegas.

* * *

Veronica shifted and settled on JD's other shoulder, and he eyed her sideways, trying to figure out if she'd done it on purpose. He'd been way too aware of how close they'd ended up sitting, him crammed in the middle between the two of them, and Enid falling asleep on him had actually pushed him closer to Veronica.

She smelled like something floral with a touch of vanilla or something, and it was driving him crazy. He swore he could kiss her right here and now, as awkward as that would be half buried under his sister, who slept like the dead, apparently.

He swore he was waking her and prodding her into her bedroom as soon as this movie was over.

Veronica's knee bumped his leg, and he glanced toward her again, seeing her head bob a little. She straightened up and moved away from him again.

He figured it was just as well. They weren't supposed to cross these lines, and he knew it. He settled back, smiling a bit at the latest on screen pun, and then Veronica's head hit his shoulder. It was a light thing, just a gentle nudge, but it sent a shockwave through his entire body, and he felt like shoving her far away from him so he didn't have to have that scent right next to him or her so damned close.

She made a low humming noise and snuggled closer to him, and he bit back a swear, not sure he was willing to wake her, even if he should.

Enid was dead weight on his side, and he really wanted her gone, as much as having Veronica on him was affecting him. There were some things a man would rather not do in front of his younger sister, asleep or not.

He tried not to groan as the credits rolled on the movie. Now he didn't even have that, but he wasn't going anywhere, not without making two women very, very cranky.

Veronica's hand snaked across his stomach, and he frowned down at her, thinking she had to be awake and screwing with him, but she showed no signs of consciousness even as she mumbled something that sounded a lot like _mine._

He sighed, turning to kiss the top of her head. He should ignore it. Or deny it.

He couldn't.

“Yours,” he agreed quietly. “Completely.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning is a bit awkward for at least two parties. A third may be amused. Or annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this yesterday but didn't manage to finish it. I'd had all these grand plans of showing a bit of domestic awkwardness and turning it into something, but it didn't seem to want to work and I was starting to think that maybe I should have left this as another one shot instead despite my best efforts and liking at least part of the scene with JD and Enid.
> 
> And then I finished a different update, A03 got weird, and I came back to write the third scene which went rather... well, actually. I liked Duke's lines, at least. Not that I know how to finish this, but at least that part works.

* * *

Veronica woke with a strange, uncomfortable pillow and a stuffed pink thing in her face. That should have been warning enough, really, but it took her a few minutes of staring at the quaggan to realize that she was not in her own bedroom—Enid actually respected that boundary, if few others—and the only way that the stuffed animal would be sitting next to her was if she was out in the common area of the apartment.

And she was. She'd somehow managed to spend the night sprawled over JD on the couch—and while it was a nice couch, about as luxurious as it got, the man had expensive taste and indulged it everywhere in the apartment besides his own bedroom—and couldn't quite manage to wrap her head around how it happened.

She swore all three of them had been on the couch when she started to doze off, with Enid on JD's other side so he couldn't possibly have been lying down, and this had to have been staged somehow.

“Enid, I'm going to kill you.”

“I'm completely innocent, I'll have you know,” Enid said from the other room. “The quaggan has only been there for five minutes. I had nothing to do with the rest of it.”

“Really,” Veronica said, knowing she didn't believe that for a second.

“Okay, so I think I unbalanced him when I got up to go to my own bed,” Enid admitted, leaning against the wall, a cup of coffee in her hands, “but I'm still not to blame for you snuggling with him. I'd have figured you'd have woken up and gone to your own bed when I did that.”

Veronica would have thought so, too, but somehow she'd slept the whole night on JD without waking. That was just... odd.

She closed her eyes, refusing to think about how she'd been perfectly willing to sleep on him naked in her backyard after a game of strip croquet. They were not those people anymore, and she was not going to repeat her mistakes. She knew better than that. Dating JD had been intense and in the end, terrifying. He'd scared the hell out of her, and she couldn't forget that she'd been willing to die to stop him from killing everyone.

That wasn't something to ignore or forget, even if he smelled good and felt incredible and she knew they still had dangerous chemistry.  


“If you wake him, he might make breakfast for us again. That was good. I want breakfast. Wake him up already.”

“I am not waking him up. If you want breakfast, make it yourself.”

“Spoil sport,” Enid muttered, walking into the room. She went to his brother's side, leaning down into his face with the quaggan. “Morning, big brother.”

“Niddie, I'm never going to buy you another one of those if you do that again.”

“Breakfast? Do you know anything about... pancakes? I want pancakes.”

“Enid, your mother was an alcoholic. How did you not learn to cook around her?”

“She wasn't that bad when I was a kid. She never needed me to cook. She loved cooking for me. It was her favorite thing to do. She would do all sorts of neat things with breakfast because the real money in dealing is at night anyway. So, we'd have giant parties in the kitchen, make whipped cream towers on top of the pancakes, whole castles with fruit and stuff... it was great.”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but my greatest feat when it comes to pancakes is making it look like an ass.”

“You mean Mickey Mouse, right? Everyone can make those shapes. And I'd—”

“No, I mean I made it look like a giant ass. One of few things Bud actually thought was funny,” JD said, and Veronica rolled her eyes. She had a feeling he was joking about that, and it was a really lame joke at that, but it was also messed up and wrong.

“Pancakes, Jay. Pancakes. We should make them. Now. This is an experience you need.”

“You're insane, and no.”

Veronica had a feeling that no wasn't going to last. Some of his did, but a lot times, in the face of Enid's looks and pleading, they crumbled fast, and this looked like one of them. JD was about to fold, and it was almost worth seeing.

Except, of course, that the domestic family oriented side of JD was a bit... disconcerting. Not wrong. That was the problem. Seeing him with his sister was often very, very cute. 

Finding JD cute was dangerous, and Veronica could not do it.

“I'm meeting Heather for coffee,” she lied. “No time for breakfast.”

* * *

“We need a job,” Enid said, and JD looked up from the pancake batter. “All of us are going to go insane if we don't get work soon. You two already are, but I'll join you, and I don't want that. So, we need a job.”

“We advertised like normal people, remember? We did the fancy sign and the internet ads and the paper ads and everything you and Veronica wanted to do,” he said, and Enid gave him a look. He'd made his feelings about all of that very clear. He didn't like the advertisements and he did not want to do them, but they'd overruled him, so they existed.

And yes, he was perversely glad it didn't work.

“You have ways of doing that that aren't normal ways, don't you?”

“Bother Veronica. She's the one with the FBI connections,” JD told her. “She could get a case from her friends. She hasn't because she secretly wants this to fail, but that's an entirely different matter.”

Enid almost dropped her coffee. “What do you mean, she wants this to fail? Does she have any idea how much money you've put into this thing? Buying the building, letting Heather Duke—of all people—decorate it, putting up the ads that you hate so much, and everything else you've done that we don't even know about? She says she can't go back to the FBI. Why would she destroy everything we're trying to do?”

“She wants an excuse to leave, one she doesn't have to blame on the things she already knows,” JD answered. His sister stared at him, and he forced a smile. He didn't really want to talk about this, though it was the unspoken elephant in every room of this building. “As much as Veronica says she wants me as a part of her life, she doesn't really mean it. She can't get past the fact that I'm a serial killer—”

“You only killed two people, technically, and you're not a killer anymore. You could have killed more than one person in the last few months, and you didn't. Okay, so the one was kind of an accident, fluke that he didn't die because you would have killed him, but the other one you were so justified in killing him and you didn't, so... Yeah. She's wrong.”

“You're biased.”

“In a good way. She's biased in a bad way. Not cool.”

He rolled his eyes at his sister. “The thing is, she keeps trying to distance herself from me as much as she says she wants to be near me. If the business fails, it's an excuse to leave that isn't about acknowledging this... thing between us. It says she tried, it failed, and she's done. She can walk away from all of it.”

“Because she tried.”

“Yes.”

“That is such faulty, fucked up logic it had to come from one of the two of you.”

He snorted. He knew that he and Veronica were not the only victims of faulty logic. The world had no shortage of them. Enid, even, fell victim to it more than once. She believed in him, and if that wasn't screwed up, he didn't know what was.

“Are you really going to let that happen?” Enid asked. “You are still in love with her, right?”

He shook his head. “I don't know what love is, Enid. Whatever Veronica and I have, it's messed up. So she's right to leave. I said it before, and I'll say it again.”

Enid rolled her eyes. “You are an idiot. You're both idiots. I swear, I would lock you two in a room if I thought it would do any good. I know it won't, but I would. I so would.”

He was rather glad Enid hadn't been around for the whole eggs incident where Veronica thought he was coming onto her. She'd never let that one go.

Not that he was entirely sure he should have let it go, either. He'd wanted Veronica as much as she wanted her, but he'd somehow found a way to stop them, and he alternated between kicking himself for it and knowing he'd done the right thing.

He fucking hated doing the right thing.

Enid put a hand on his arm. “For what it's worth, I think she's just scared. She actually does care a lot about you. And... maybe it's stupid, but I think the two of you can work it out. You're like... meant to be—in a warped, messed up, insane way—but meant. Yeah, meant.”

“You are delusional, baby sis.”

“Can you please stop calling me that?”

“No. Now do you want a pancake that's shaped like—”

“Mickey Mouse will be fine.”

“Coward.”

Enid wrapped her arms around him, leaving him to stand there very awkwardly, stunned and uncomfortable. “I may not think much of your pancake art skills, but I am glad you're here and my brother.”

“What do you want, Enid?”

“Why do I have to want anything?”

“Because you're my sister. And you're mercenary. And I know this about you and even encourage it. I do have to warn you that if you think you can ask for something between me and Veronica, that's really not going to happen. Ever.”

“I wasn't.”

“Sure you weren't.”

“I was going to remind you that you owe me a new phone.”

“You have a phone.”

“Oh. Right. So... do I get a wedding?”

“Only if it's yours.”

* * *

“You'd be the first to call me on my bullshit, right?” Veronica asked as she sat down across from her old friend. The coffee shop was near deserted, but it wasn't completely empty, and she still got a few looks for her choice of words from the other customers.

Duke looked up from her phone and frowned at her. “Is that why you called and wanted to meet for coffee?”

She'd have called just about anyone to get away from the overly domestic display that was about to happen in the kitchen. She couldn't do it. Acting too much like... family with JD was a mistake. Even with Enid as a sort of buffer, it was just too much.

“Maybe.”

Duke rolled her eyes. “Maybe nothing. This is about you living with the man you supposedly can't be with but are engaged to anyway and can't give up even if it is the right thing to do, isn't it? Do you really want an honest opinion of that?”

Veronica shook her head. “No.”

It wasn't like Duke had all the facts, anyway. Even now, none of Veronica's high school friends knew what she'd done back then, that she and JD had actually killed Heather Chandler, Kurt Kelly, and Ram Sweeney. She hadn't told them. She couldn't.

No, she could, but she wasn't willing to. They wouldn't forgive her. She also wasn't willing to go to prison. So she lied. She told herself she was making up for things, but she wasn't, not anymore. She had given up the FBI.

And she lived with a man she knew was a killer, even if he had changed—said he'd changed—and she knew that was wrong.

“Well, tough, because I'm giving it to you anyway,” Duke said. “You are not doing anyone any favors by denying what this thing between you is.”

“So, I should end it. Move out and be done with it.”

“God, don't make me smack you,” Duke muttered. Veronica frowned. “I mean it. Veronica, you get with him and the rest of the world doesn't exist. You still have that now after years of distance, on and off again bullshit, and all the rest of what's gone down between the two of you—and yeah, it's pretty fucked up. I don't know everything. I don't have to, but even if the only thing was him looking a lot like that kid you dated in high school and the endless baggage that would cause, the two of you have something. You get together, and it's like you're the only ones in the room. You were in a fucking casino with bells and whistles and winners happening and left and right, five of us standing around you talking about you, and you only heard him.”

“That's like... teenage stupidity or ridiculous cliché. It's not real.”

Duke kicked her under the table. “We all saw it, Veronica. We were there. And before you start saying it doesn't matter, it does. I'm a wedding planner, remember? I see all kinds of couples. Ones like you two are irritating as hell to deal with, but they're also the ones that I don't see in a few months pulling out of venues or trying to get refunds because the marriage is already over. That feeling, that sense that it's only you in the world doesn't last for many, most of the time, but you have it, and why the fuck would you ignore that?”

“Because of what we did and who he is and—”

“Do you love him?”

“No.”

Duke studied her. “Are you absolutely sure of that?”

“Did I not sound sure? I was very quick to answer.”

“Quick doesn't mean it's what you believe. It means it's what you know you should say. So you said it. Good job. Now be honest with yourself for a minute. Just one. Will you be happy if you leave him?”

“It... would probably be about the same as before. A little better because no one would be gaslighting me, so... fine.”

“Bullshit. You were fucking miserable and you know it.”

“I'm not happy now.”

“Because you want him and won't accept that or actually because of something he did or didn't do for you since you've been living together?”

Veronica leaned back in her chair. How did Duke know so much? Damn it. “He hasn't done anything... wrong since we moved in together. He's been... a good roommate. Keeps his stuff clean, cooks meals, doesn't intrude.”

Duke smiled. “You want him to. That's the problem. You're not getting any, and the sexual frustration is getting to you. So you're pushing him away because you want more. That's so messed up it has to be you.”

“I should have called Martha.”

“You called me because you needed to hear this, and don't pretend she would have told you everything you needed to hear. You know even I don't do that. You don't really want us to, but when you do reach out, we owe it to you to say what you need to hear,” Duke said. “You want my advice?”

“No.”

Duke smirked. “Sleep with him. Get it out of your system. Only then will you know if it's what you really want.”

“No.”

“You want to, don't you? At least a little?” Duke pointed a finger at her. “Don't deny it. I saw you go mush in his arms.”

“I didn't not go mush—”

“You probably could have screwed him right there in the middle of the casino.”

“I would not have done that,” Veronica insisted. As intense and insane as things got with JD before, they didn't really go at it in public. Her backyard definitely wasn't about an audience, and the car—well, it started as a cover but became a lot more than that. “I can't do that.”

“I'm not saying you have to screw him in public. You live in the same apartment. Just cross the hall and scratch the itch.”

“I can't do that, either, Heather. It's not right. I know he's still in love with me. I can't... messing around with his feelings like that... it's wrong.”

“If you care enough to be afraid of that, there's at least something on your end. I think it's still worth trying.”

“I won't use him like that.”

“Sounds a lot like you might love him. If you do, you're just taking the next logical step. And you damn well need to do something. End the damned limbo. Either you're in this thing for real or you're not. And I am not just saying that because I'm supposed to plan your wedding. It's love or it isn't. It's a relationship or it isn't.” Duke rose, gathering her phone and keys. “I'm only going to say this once. Quit fucking around and decide where you really stand.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JD finds yet another strange coping mechanism, with Veronica's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the thought of Veronica finding JD like that a few days ago, but I didn't get to write it until today and then it was complicated by a broken furnace (in the snow) and having to bundle under like six layers to stay warm and not be able to type updates.

* * *

“Ask your FBI friends for a job for us,” Enid said as soon as Veronica walked in the doors.

“What?”

“Ask them for a job. A referral. Something. Anything. We need the work,” Enid said, pulling on her jacket. “We're all going nuts, and if you don't ask them, I will hack your emails and do it. In fact, you have... well, a couple of hours before I do.”

“A couple hours?”

Enid sighed. “I am a nerd. Do you have any idea what movie just came into theaters today? I pre-ordered my tickets months ago. I would have forced Jay to go, but he is so going to ruin everything in this movie for me, and so I get to watch it once without his commentary and psychoanalysis of the characters. Oh, and the plot holes. Good god, watching a movie with a plot hole and my brother is like torture. They should do that with war criminals.”

Veronica smiled. That might actually be funny to see. “So, this movie—”

“If you can't figure it out on your own, I'm not telling you. I don't want it spoiled. I do expect to hear you've gotten us a job by the time I get out of the theater, or I will do it myself,” Enid said, picking up her purse. “I mean it. We need work. And you can get it for us.”

Veronica nodded. She'd been reluctant to call on her friends for help, wanting to stand on her own, but she knew that they needed something to get started, and she might as well see if Philips or someone else could throw a case their way.

She disliked getting it as an ultimatum, though, and she wasn't about to let Enid push her around. She wasn't just going to ask because Enid told her to.

She watched Enid leave before going to the elevator. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, but she wasn't going to call anyone, not yet. She stepped into the elevator and pushed the button, taking it up to the penthouse.

She passed the kitchen on the way to her room, stopped and turned back, not sure what about JD had caught her eye. She studied him for a long moment, frowning. Something was off, really off, and yet all he was doing was standing there. He was fully dressed, this time in a pair of dark jeans and a shirt that hugged him a little too tightly for her mental well-being, especially after Duke telling her to sleep with him, and his hair was combed back, none of it in his face, so it wasn't like he looked like a mess. He should be fine.

Something was wrong, though, and Veronica knew it. She walked over to him, and he didn't look at her. She touched his arm, and he didn't respond at all. Okay, now she was a little worried. He usually knew when she was there. For him to zone so completely and not even jump when she touched him, it was bad.

“JD?” Veronica moved her hand along his arm, trying to reach him. “JD? Can you look at me? It's Veronica. Is this—JD, whatever it is, wherever you think you are, you're not there now. You're in our apartment. You're safe. That's all in the past.”

He closed his eyes. “I was trying to ignore you. Please go away.”

“What?”

“Just go.”

She snorted. “Like hell. What is going on with you? This is really weird. Not that everything with us isn't weird, but... you're kind of scaring me.”

He put his fingers on his nose, pinching it. “This is going to sound stupid.”

She thought about what he'd said about there being no stupid questions and almost said something like it. “Try me.”

“I found Enid's liquor stash.”

“Okay,” Veronica said, knowing she was missing something here. Even with JD's status as an addict, that could not be all of it. “I wouldn't have thought she'd have much on hand, with her mom and all.”

“Enid's not an alcoholic, you're not an alcoholic. She has no reason not to have some if she wants it, and she's not—she likes Bailey's in her coffee at the very least.”

“That still doesn't explain that very zoned out look on your face.”

“I was giving a lot of consideration to drinking everything she has even though I know it's not enough, not a drop in the bucket of what I need to feel the kind of relief I want. It's... I don't... I am sober. I am supposed to stay that way. I got rid of the prescriptions. I'm fine.”

“You are so not fine,” Veronica said, knowing he was a mess. “What brought it on? It wasn't just about finding a bottle of Bailey's. Are you having flashbacks you're not telling us about? I haven't seen anything, but that... I know you're good at hiding things.”

“It snuck up on me,” he said. “Most of the time... dates are meaningless. They don't matter from one day to the next. It's just about getting by. It's nothing.”

“This about what happened in Vegas?”

He shook his head. “I... Everything there the first time—second, it always seems like the first, though—that's a blur. It's not...”

“Not what's bothering you right now and making you want to drink all of your sister's booze.”

“Yeah.”

“You going to tell me what is?”

He gave her a baleful look. “Do I have a choice?”

“No. I'll keep pushing until you do. I might even have to... I don't know... torture it out of you somehow. In the kindest way possible.”

“There's a kind way to torture someone?”

“Well, some people liken foreplay to torture, so...”

“You are bright red right now. So red. I have to wonder if you are—”

“So not going to be distracted by you talking about sex or implying that I want you,” she said. “Just tell me. We don't need to drag this out all day, and I can tell it's hurting you. I'd go get Enid and force the issue, but she's off watching some movie—”

“You let her go? I was totally planning on spoiling her evening with spoilers I got from the internet. I know the whole plot and I haven't seen it.”

Veronica laughed. “Okay, as much as I think I would have enjoyed seeing you tease her, I am not going to be distracted away from this. Tell me. Please.”

He lowered his head. “The date.”

“What about it?”

“The anniversary. It... I didn't realize it was today. Too much going on. I'd been distracted, and then... I... looked at the calendar and it was that day.”

She knew he didn't want to tell her, but that didn't mean she wasn't frustrated with trying to get it out of him. The distractions could be fun. This... it was so hard. He was clearly struggling, and it was hard to watch. As much as she wanted to shout and scream and demand answers, she knew she couldn't. She had to take this at the pace he was able to sustain.

“Which day?”

“The day my mom died,” JD answered, the anguish in his voice so strong it almost felt like she'd been hit with it, too.

“JD,” she said, wanting to reach for him, but he moved as soon as she turned toward him.

“I'm fine. I've answered your question. Now I'm going to—”

“Stop right there,” she said, taking hold of him. “You are not fine, and you are not leaving. You need something—not alcohol, no, but—you're not going to be alone with this.”

“It's not... I've lived with it for years. I don't need to be babied or—”

“You watched your mother die,” Veronica said. “And there is no reason to be ashamed of that day affecting you even now.”

He shook his head. “It's not that. Her death... that's just a blur, really. She waves. The building goes boom. She's gone. We stay there for hours... hours... while he answers questions... no one gives a shit about me... and then he takes me back home... Home. What am I even saying? I never had a home.”

“You could make one for yourself,” Veronica said, and he snorted. “JD, I'm serious. As cliché as it is, home is what you make it. You can create new families, new homes, new lives. You rebuilt yourself before. You can do it now and make a home if you want.”

“That is bullshit.”

“You have a sister now and—”

“I'm not making a damned family. Everything I know about families is completely fucked up, okay? We weren't... good or normal even before she died, but then she died and... I remember dead silence from him all the way back to the house. And then we get inside, and he backhanded me so hard I hit the floor... no warning, no nothing... just... ripped everything away from me...”

Veronica usually left it up to Enid to do the hugging, but she was gone and JD was a mess. She had to do something about this, even if she had no idea how to help him. She pulled him close and held onto him as he stood there, shaking.

“You smell.”

“Oh, really?”

He nodded against her. “Think Duke's perfume wore off on you some. Not your scent. Not good. Not you.”

“And what is my scent?”

“Slushies. Cigarettes. Red vines. Sex.”

She was red again, she knew it. “Maybe when I was seventeen. These days... Dove antiperspirant and whatever the cheapest shampoo was that day at the store.”

“Oh, you have to pick them based on scent, Ronnie. Not the price. Never the price. The smell.”

“You want to teach me the finer points of buying shampoo? Like you would know.”

“I wouldn't. Men's shampoo is rather boring and unappealing when it comes to scents. Women's, though... all the variety in the world...”

“Would it make you feel better to go shampoo shopping with me?”

“I want to say yes, and I know that's fucked up.”

“Admittedly, it's weird, but you and I have done worse things and have much less healthy coping mechanisms,” she said. If this was what he needed, she could do it. She wanted to help.

* * *

“How about this one?” Veronica asked, opening the cap and sticking it under his nose. JD recoiled, and she laughed. They both knew she'd picked that one on purpose. He'd already expressed distaste for that brand and any scents like it, but she seemed to be able to find new bottles of it that weren't like the others and get him with them anyway.

In other words, she was enjoying this.

He wouldn't say he wasn't. He needed a distraction, and since he'd missed out on tormenting Enid over her geek love. She'd gotten to the movie before he could spoil it for her, and he regretted that, but then... this day hit hard if he took notice of it, and he always tried not to, burying himself in work or alcohol.

“Okay, this one,” Veronica said, picking up a new and very pink bottle. “It says it's cherry.”

“I'm thinking it lies,” he said, and when she held it out for him to smell, he nodded. “Oh, yeah. It lies. How does that pass for cherry?”

“Imitation cherry has been ruining people's lives for decades now,” she said. “We don't even know what real cherries smell like.”

“Hmm. Let's get some Twizzlers and remind you.”

“They're strawberry.”

“Irrelevant. All I want is to see you chewing on one like you did in that convenience store,” he said and tried not to grimace. He was not supposed to be flirting with her. Flirting was off-limits. This wasn't about flirting. They were distracting him by smelling shampoo, and yeah, it was stupid, but it seemed to be working, so what the hell?

“First we need to find the approved shampoo scent. Then we'll see about Twizzlers. Though... it was Red Vines back then, but they have so many flavors of Twizzlers now—you would not believe the variety. Though why I have to tell you that—”

“I don't actually like the taste of them. Just like watching you eat them,” he said, again finding himself on awkward ground.

“Well, I like variety,” she said, turning back to the row of shampoo. “Hmm. What do we have here?”

“Enough trouble to last us a lifetime?” JD suggested. She looked at him. He shook his head. “This is getting a little... away from what it's supposed to be. We're just supposed to be joking around and keeping me from thinking too much about what day it is. Not... the rest of this.”

“You mean flirting?” Veronica asked, turning back with a new bottle. “I did notice you were doing that again.”

“Um... defense mechanism?”

“The sad thing is in your case, it's true,” she said, holding the bottle out to him. “What about this one?”

“Mint? Not a bad scent. Not you. And not... acceptable. Not as shampoo. It's breath mints and pain relief cream and mouthwash, but shampoo? And no. Do not even touch the coconut. We're not going there. Ever.” He stopped. “Wait—are you telling me we're really not leaving until I pick you out a shampoo scent?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you brought it up and now I will forever need to have the right scent for my shampoo, thank you very much. I thought guys weren't even supposed to notice that sort of thing.”

“I notice everything about you, Ronnie.”

“I know.”

He grimaced. “That sounded creepy, didn't it?”

“Actually, I thought it was kind of... well... to be honest, it's overwhelming most of the time,” she said. “Not because I am scared of you. I'm not. I thought I was, when you first came back into my life. And I would have been right to be, if you were the same as you were back then, but you've changed. I know that now. I just... I find your insights a little... unnerving. You know too much. And you want to know it, you care about these little details no one else does, and it's flattering but scary and I think about what we were and what we did and that _does_ scare me because I don't want us ever to go back to that.”

He nodded. “I know. It's not like I don't realize it's possible. That is a risk we run just by spending time together, no matter how innocent it is.”

She set the bottle back on the shelf, and he expected to hear something about how they should just go their separate ways, but it didn't come.

“Enid told me I'd better have a case when she got done with her movie,” Veronica said instead, picking up another bottle. She opened it and made a little noise, and he didn't think she'd do that on purpose after just steering the conversation far away from that topic. “She threatened to hack me if I didn't get her one.”

“And yet you are here, sampling shampoo.”

“I don't like ultimatums.”

“Few people do,” JD agreed. “I don't have one to rescue you with, if that's what you're thinking. She might be lenient considering that we are in the middle of a weird therapy session, but she's Enid, so she won't.”

“You know of anything that will stop her besides getting a case?”

“Working would do all of us some good. You're a workaholic, and me... I'm dangerous when I'm bored. So's Enid, but not in the same sense.”

“I know, but I won't give into her threats.”

“I'm not saying you should. There is something else she'd like, but that involves licenses and dresses and rings and vows and—”

“Right, no, not going to work.”

“I didn't say it would,” he said. “I'm not really sure there's any avoiding Enid when she's set her mind to something.”

Veronica sighed, passing the shampoo to him. “I am not going to do it because she tells me to.”

He closed the lid on the bottle. “Yes. That one. We should go.”

“This one?”

The way she'd moaned when she inhaled it was enough for him, and he should have said no seeing as it sort of evoked the same response in both of them, but he was an idiot, and he knew it. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Let's get some Twizzlers before we go.”

He almost smacked his head into the nearest shelf. He needed a way to put himself out of his misery.

* * *

Veronica's phone buzzed in the middle of her licorice contemplation, and she frowned. She knew who it had to be, and she didn't want to look at it. She was not dealing with Enid's threats. The job thing was something they arguably needed, but she also knew that it would be something that she and JD would use to hide in, as a giant distraction.

Not that all distractions were bad—she liked this one, the shampoo one, it was weird and fun and cute all at once, and she'd enjoyed it.

She knew better than to enjoy it, but JD was a lot calmer now—subdued, really, since the conversation had veered into flirting and then been shut down again—and seemed less rattled and less likely to fall off the wagon.

“You know, if you can't decide on one, you could just get all of them,” JD said, and she looked at him. That was the simplest solution in some sense, but it was another thing that she wouldn't actually make a decision about. She wasn't selecting a flavor, she was grabbing some of all of them, not actually choosing anything. Again.

“No. I have to actually _pick.”_

He looked at her, frowning. “Why do I get the feeling this is not about which flavor of licorice you want? Although, technically... it's only licorice if it's black. The other flavors aren't licorice. They're flavored twists.”

She did not know why him saying that made her want to kiss him. The licorice thing, not the knowing her too well thing. That was still a bit unsettling.

How the hell was she going to make a decision now?

“I... I can't decide.”

“Time or distance can help with that. Just get all the flavors now, make the decision when you're actually ready to eat them.”

Oh, hell, if he only knew what her mind had linked this to. No. That was just wrong.

“What's wrong, Ronnie? And don't say nothing.”

She sighed. “I feel stupid for not being able to make up my mind, that's all.”

“We all have our moments of indecision,” JD said, picking up a bag from the shelf. “Chocolate? Somehow that seems wrong.”

“Chocolate being wrong? Since when is chocolate ever wrong?”

He gave her a grin, and she swore she could have kissed him here and now. Like in the kitchen the other day. She could throw herself at him. Again. Here. 

She couldn't.

And yet... she wanted to. A lot.

Damn it. She still didn't know what the hell to do.

“Let's just get them all, Veronica. We should probably go before it gets any later, and Enid will be causing trouble soon if we're not careful.”

“I don't suppose you could use those spoilers to—”

“Ooh, I could. Let me see your phone.”

She put the candy in their shopping cart. One way or another, they had to get out of here soon. She was indecisive as hell. She'd been worried about him when she first got back, and then they'd agreed to do something kind of insane. She'd found him cute with the shampoo, and then she'd flirted with him. She'd wanted to kiss him more than once tonight. She didn't know that she could control herself if he did get the upper hand with Enid and made her forget her little ultimatum.

She had to clear her head. She needed to make a real decision.

Heather was right.

She had to figure out what she really wanted.

And fast.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a nightmare and things get blurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... nightmare bad. Awkwardness after... not so bad?
> 
> More lyrics:
> 
> _I'll give you everything I am,_   
>  _All my broken heartbeats._   
>  _Until I know you'll understand._
> 
> ~Christina Perri, "Distance"

* * *

_  
His father looked at him across the car, and JD shrank down, wishing he could find some way to hide from him. He swore his father was looking at him like it was his fault, like somehow what his mom had done was his doing. He didn't understand. He hadn't even wanted to be there, but his dad said he needed to learn about the business, that he would like watching the explosions the way that he did, and his mom hadn't argued with him. She'd been quiet all morning._

_She'd waved. She knew he was there._

_How... how could she do that? She knew she'd die. She had to know, but she'd been in there, and she'd waved, and it was wrong. It had to be._

_His father stopped the car. He got out, not saying a word. JD swallowed, forcing himself to unbuckle his seatbelt. His hands shook, and then he pulled on the handle and got out. His legs felt like they'd go out from under him, but his father was there, pushing him toward the door._

_He walked up to the house, and his father opened the front door, shoving him inside. JD stumbled, but he righted himself, flinching when he heard the door lock behind them. Time to go to his room. He knew that, but he didn't want to be alone._

_He looked up at his dad, but before he could say anything, Bud backhanded him so hard he fell on the hard floor by the door. His head ached—had he heard a crack? He felt like his head was broken._

_He went to get up, but then his father was on top of him, holding him down. He knew he was going to get hit again. His father did blame him for his mom. He had to. That was the only reason he'd do this, right?_

_“Please. I won't... I can't do it again. Don't hurt me. Please.”_

_His father looked down at him, and JD wanted to run. Though the man was smiling, there was nothing kind in that look, nothing good. He swore it was like seeing evil. His father wanted to hurt him._

_He tried to fight, scared as he was, bringing up his arms and shoving at his dad, trying to get him off, but his dad just grabbed hold of his wrists and yanked them away, almost like he was trying to pull them off. He screamed._

_He started begging again. His mom was dead, and he was sure he was going to die, too, but he didn't—he hadn't done it. He swore he hadn't._

_“Please, Dad. I'll do whatever you want. Don't—”_

_His father put a hand over his mouth. “Shut up. This has been coming for a long time, Jason. Such a very, very long time. I waited, but I shouldn't have. I should have done this years ago, and I'm not going to wait another minute.”_

_He screamed again, trying to pull free from his dad's hold, but he couldn't stop him. He couldn't stop any of it._

* * *

Veronica set down her book and sighed. So much for that, not that she'd really figured on it being enough to keep her mind occupied. She couldn't sleep, not after getting so mixed up over the damned shampoo and Twizzlers. She'd avoided a cold shower, since the shampoo would only have made it worse, and had tried calming herself with a book instead.

That did no good, but what fiction really stood a chance of comparing with her life? She didn't know, since most of it seemed stranger than any book or movie she'd come across.

She shook her head at herself, rising from her bed. She crossed to the door, going out into the main section of the penthouse. She'd finished off her tea a while ago, and its supposed calming effect hadn't done much good, but she was still thirsty and could use something before she made a futile attempt to sleep.

She filled the kettle with water, putting it on the stove. She was just about to turn on the burner when she heard it.

JD was screaming. He had to be, for even a little of the sound to get through these doors and walls, and she took off running toward his room. She tried the door once, finding it locked, and swore. They hadn't exchanged keys, not to bedrooms. That was like some unspoken rule, both of them so determined to keep their distance they wouldn't even have keys to the other rooms, not that it really mattered if either of them wanted in.

She knew he could pick locks. She could, too, but she wasn't in the mood to be careful and patient, so she stepped back and gave the thing a good kick, breaking it open.

Despite the noise, JD didn't come out of his dream, curled up on his side and whimpering. She winced, knowing he'd hate this and that Enid was going to give her so much shit for kicking the door in, but she hadn't been sure it was a nightmare and it was one hell of one for her to hear it in the kitchen.

“Get off me. Get off...”

She crossed over to JD's side, kneeling next to the bed. “JD? It's Veronica. Can you hear me? It's just a dream. You're safe. There's no one here but us. Your dad's dead and Eberhard's disabled, so you're safe here.”

He didn't answer or open his eyes, and she sighed. Reaching out a hand, she put it over his, careful not to do too much and trigger something worse. This was always hard, and she never knew the right way to handle this, not with her witnesses or anyone she'd worked with, not that her own shrink had been much help there anyway.

“JD,” she said, hoping her voice would help, since she doubted the memory was tied to her though it wasn't entirely impossible. “JD, I'm here. Feel my hand. I'm here. You're with me. You're not there. You're here, in our apartment. It's quiet. Enid's pouting because you ruined her movie by picking out all the plot holes, so she didn't stay here tonight. It's just us.”

She moved her fingers over his hand, still talking to him, muttering nonsense because she had no idea what she was doing. Her fingers grazed a scar on his wrist and he jerked, pulling away from her.

A second later, his eyes opened, needing a moment to fix on her.

“Ronnie?”

“Hi,” she said, feeling stupid. “Um... you... you were screaming.”

He groaned, turning away from her. “I'm fine. Sorry I woke you or... whatever. You can go.”

She rolled her eyes, circling around the bed and sitting where she could look at him. “You are not fine. You didn't wake me, and I'm not going anywhere.”

He closed his eyes. “It's... you don't have to do this. I'm... It's just a dream.”

“A memory,” she said, daring him to deny it, knowing he couldn't. She reached for his hand, covering it with hers. “The day your mom died?”

He didn't open his eyes, didn't move. “He's been dead for years. He shouldn't have this much... power over me now. I fucking hate this. I just dealt with someone who was ten times worse than him, and I won, I fucking won, but I see a date on a calendar and I go to pieces again like a baby.”

She climbed onto the bed, getting close enough to run her fingers through his hair. “You know that one day is not just an ordinary day. It's the day your life changed forever. That's what you said. Before you had some sense of... normalcy. Your mom was a buffer between you and him, a small bit of protection. After that... all bets were off and he... he led you to that man that was ten times worse than him. It's not just a day that would have been terrible all on its own because you watched your mother die. It's about everything that you lost when he turned on you and everything that came after... and that is... that's so much it would break just about anyone.”

“Other people didn't do what I did.”

“No, they didn't become killers, but some of them turn around and abuse others,” she said, feeling him shudder beneath her fingers. “You never did that. You fought bullies, even killed them. You didn't turn on someone defenseless like you were, didn't cause that kind of pain.”

He looked up at her. “I did. To you.”

She shook her head. “No. That wasn't—it wasn't the same. I mean, you did try to kill me when you couldn't get me to continue killing everyone, and you kissed me more than once without permission and when I was really not—that's still different. It wasn't like what he did to you or what he let others do. You didn't understand the line, but that's not surprising considering what you went through.”

He snorted. “I should have known it better than anyone. You think I liked it when I got kissed without permission? I just... You... you were the first time when I wanted it... and that got... really warped in my head... I didn't understand you not wanting it... our love was God and everything...”

She sighed. “You don't know how many times I wished that I'd known you before you got bent so far, that... that maybe if you hadn't—if we'd never gone to Heather's, do you think you would still have killed anyone?”

“My dad,” he answered, not hesitating on that one. “I had that all planned. I had to get rid of him and Woods and... I would have killed him. I was going to. I... don't know that I entirely regret not using that on him. Oh, he screwed my life over again, but... he didn't ever do it to anyone else, so what the hell? Not like it mattered if he did it to me.”

She shook her head. “It did, JD. It did. I... We could have found other ways to deal with him.”

“Maybe. I don't know. I was a mess back then. I still am... but then.. I was... Bud had broken me in Vegas... I don't remember a lot of the time after it, either... just going through the motions... and then I was together enough to know I had to kill him and get free... and that was about when we met and it all went to hell.”

“I know, but if—”

“I still don't regret killing them. Kurt and Ram, I mean. At least the one of them was a date rapist for sure. We saw that with our own eyes. And what they said about you... I don't think it would have stopped there. I don't think I'm exaggerating to think I spared someone else what Heather went through, what they would have done to you. If they'd lived, they'd have raped someone else.”

She wasn't sure he was wrong about that, since it was unlikely that even had Heather been in a state to report it or they'd done something about it then that Ram would have stopped, that neither of them would have expected and even forced sex when their dates didn't want to give it, and they could have even have gotten away with it due to family money and the way Sherwood was at the time.

They couldn't know that, though, and maybe both of them could have changed. JD had.

“You can go,” he said. “I'm... calm now. I... I don't think I'll be sleeping again, but I don't want to keep you up all night.”

She shook her head. “I don't think you should be alone tonight.”

“You're in the same apartment.”

“That's not what I meant,” she said, and he nodded. “And stop hating yourself for this. You know you just had a shitload of trauma get dragged up and thrown back in your face. You had to go up against a perverted killer, and it wasn't like you came out unscathed. This date coming up not long after that... well, the universe is kicking you when you're down, but that doesn't mean you can't... you can have a night. We all get weak. You know I was.”

“Arguably, you are now, being sympathetic to me.”

“No.” She didn't consider this weakness. This was humanity, plain and simple. He was not just a man who'd taken lives when he was a very messed up teenager. He was a person, a kid who'd been traumatized and abused and a man who'd done his strange version of his best to atone for his past actions.

“Yes.”

“I don't want to argue with you right now. I'm tired.”

“So go to bed.”

“I'm in a bed.”

“Yours is nicer. Go to it.”

“I'm not leaving you alone, JD. Not after that. You... no one should have to be alone after something like that.”

He studied her. “And if I were to try and say that when you've had a bad night—”

“That's a conversation for a different time,” she said. “Just... I'll leave if you fall asleep without another nightmare, okay? I just... you tried other things already. You were good and stayed sober, and you tried alternate therapy with the shampoo thing, but you still ended up screaming so loud I heard you—your door was not open. You shouldn't have to suffer through that again.”

“Fine. Give me one of Enid's quaggans and call it a night.”

“No.”

“And if I were to take you in place of the quaggan and snuggle you?”

“You wouldn't.”

He sat up, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her back down with him so they were both lying awkwardly on the bed, feet on top of his pillows, covers bunched underneath them. He moved in closer, nuzzling her neck.

“Hmm. Soft and squishy.”

She snorted with laughter. “Stop it, you idiot. I am not a stuffed animal and I shudder to think what you really do with Enid's quaggans.”

“I am not that sick, okay? I would never do... say this...” He put his hand under her top, fingers ghosting along her stomach. “To a quaggan. This is for Veronicas only.”

“Oh, really.”

“So are kisses.”

She reached up to stop him from getting closer. “Don't. Don't twist me trying to comfort you into innuendo and sex to push me away. That's not what this is about.”

He laid back, staring up at the ceiling. “I can't do this with you.”

“You've never actually done this with anyone,” she countered. “Maybe your mom comforted you when you were younger, but she's been gone for so long and wasn't there for the worst of it... no one was. When you needed help the most, you were alone. You're not now. Just accept what I'm offering you. Please.”

“This is crossing lines we shouldn't cross.”

It was, and she knew it, but she also wasn't moving. “Tell me about... one of your cases as Judas Dane. That gaslighting one that Enid's always talking about.”

“If you're comforting me, you're telling the bedtime stories.”

She laughed. “Okay, fine. Um... Well, when I was at Quantico...”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning is awkward, to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more lyrics, and then a bit of a disclaimer.
> 
>  
> 
> _And I keep waiting_  
>  _For you to take me_  
>  _And you keep waiting_  
>  _To save what we had_
> 
>  
> 
> ~Christina Perri, "Distance"
> 
> So... this was supposed to be a sort of nearly fluffy thing where Veronica woke up and realized she liked sleeping next to JD.
> 
> Yeah, about that...

* * *

“The door is broken. If there is a messed up, kinky reason for that, I so don't want to know,” Enid said, leaning in her brother's doorway. She could kind of see for herself that there probably wasn't—Veronica and Jay were fully clothed—in pajamas, but clothed—and on top of his covers, lying the wrong way on the bed.

And snuggling. She was not for a minute going to overlook the snuggling.

Jay probably found Veronica better than any quaggan, though he looked a bit like he was holding onto her like his life depended on it, and that was a little... much, but then Enid had the feeling that Jay didn't do anything by halves.

When he fell, he fell _hard._

The fact that he'd never gotten over Veronica, not in all these years, really said that, didn't it? Oh, sure, it was also pretty fucked up, but it could almost make a person believe in true love and its impossible ability to overcome anything.

Not that these two should be a poster couple for it, not by a long shot, and Enid certainly didn't hold out much hope for herself, but she sometimes thought love could exist and not just in fiction.

“Guys?” Enid rolled her eyes, going over to shove her brother. “Come on. You owe me breakfast.”

“If this is about your disappointment in a film riddled with plot holes and poor characterization, that has nothing to do with me, and I refuse to make sympathy pancakes or whatever the hell else you're about to demand,” Jay muttered, shifting in his spot and somehow getting closer to Veronica. “Go away. You're ruining the dream.”

“If the dream is that you have your own snuggle toy better than a quaggan who is your ex and yet your fiancée at the same time, it's not a dream,” Enid told him, wishing she'd thought to grab her phone because she needed photos of this. “You do have a Veronica in your arms, and you can either submit to my breakfast demands or I'll wake her.”

“I'll kill you,” he said, his voice full of warning, “and don't think I won't because I am a sociopath and I don't care about things like sisters and—”

“You are so full of shit, JD,” Veronica muttered, and he winced. She turned over and looked at him like it was only the two of them in this room. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Jay's voice came out a little funny, and Enid thought it was cute, in a way.

“Feeling any better?”

He closed his eyes. “Not particularly, no, but thank you for the bedtime stories anyway.”

“You didn't have another nightmare, did you?”

He shook his head. “No. I... I think we both made it through without them.”

Enid wanted to know about the nightmares, and now she had an explanation for the door, but she wasn't about to ask. She knew that she was intruding, and as much as she wanted to tease them and push things, she didn't want to be in the middle of this—and she sure as hell didn't want it to stop when it looked like the two idiots were finally making progress.

She excused herself without a word and went off to make coffee. They'd all need some by the time the two of them were done.

* * *

Veronica would probably not have chosen to acknowledge the fact that she was awake if she'd had more sense. True, the last thing she wanted was Enid taking blackmail pictures or something stupid like that, but she was also very much enjoying the quietness and warmth of being held in his arms, and she wasn't ready to give that up yet.

She knew better, knew she shouldn't do this.

That didn't stop a part of her wanting it more than anything.

“You very specifically do not smell like the shampoo we bought yesterday.”

She found herself laughing as much as she shouldn't. His breath was tickling her neck and reminding her of things best forgotten as well as the reason why she had chosen not to shower last night even though she could have used one.

“That your way of telling me I need a bath?” she asked, lifting her eyes to meet his. She shouldn't have. Fuck, that look in his eyes left nothing out, all his emotions clear in one gaze—the love, the desire, the desperation and need.

“No,” he whispered. “It's not.”

What the fuck did she do now? Kiss him and give into everything she knew she shouldn't do and damn both of them as well as maybe others? Reject him and break his very vulnerable heart? She couldn't lead him on, so she should stop this here and now. She hated being so damned conflicted. She didn't know right from wrong again, and he did that to her.

“You should probably go get some of that coffee Enid's making,” he said, and she saw him lift his hand but then stop before he touched her. “Um... now.”

She nodded, well aware of that. “And yet... we can't keep avoiding this forever.”

“Actually, we could. It's pretty simple. You leave. One or both of us moves—I'm not sure which of us should get custody of the building. I'm still trying to figure that out. I mean, it's technically your business, so you should keep the office but it was in a way my money except I hate touching Bud's money after what he did. Still... it's not as hard as you make it sound.”

She shook her head. “It is. Don't act like... like this is simple for me. If it was... I'd have let you walk away back when you came by Enid's to say goodbye. Or in Reno. Or... Or I'd still believe you were dead even though there were times when I wished you weren't.”

“That's beyond fucked up. I tried to kill you, remember?”

She studied him. “If you'd been able to rig the bomb without me waking up, would you have left me down in the boiler room when you were done?”

He frowned. “Um... theoretical questions like that are of no use now, you know that, right?”

“Just answer me.”

“You already know the answer to that,” he said. “I was so far gone back then I would have believed if I got through with the bomb and saved you... you'd come back to me. We'd have ended it all, and you'd be mine. I was sure of it... that was half the reason for the bomb... you were gone and there was nothing left for me... I was going to die there... and then you were alive, so it was about the marshmallows and watching it burn together... but you... you stopped me. And you should have. You were right to. And I was ready to go because I knew... I am too damaged. I'll never be good to anyone or anything and there's not much keeping me from being that person I was.”

“Except you're good to Enid. And you've helped people.”

“That's not enough.”

“Do you have to go to jail to atone for the past, is that it?”

He snorted. “Try the death penalty. And... no. I... I don't know that I would feel like that did any good. Sure, arguably, I don't deserve to live, but in there, what do I do? Read books, slowly go further insane... how long do you think I would last before I was murdering guards or other inmates? I give it a week, tops.”

She flinched. “JD—”

“I am not trying to fool myself here,” he said. “I'm not a good person. I'm only a shadow of one when I want something. And yeah, that's you, but that just makes it even less... good. This obsession of mine... it's not healthy.”

“No, it's not.”

“Veronica, just... go. Please. I don't—I can't do this.”

She shook her head, reaching over to touch his face. “I've been trying to make my mind up about this for a while now. I came up with reason after reason why this is insane and I shouldn't want it, shouldn't have you anywhere near my life. And you gave me reasons, too. We both know we're bad for each other... but in some ways... aren't we good for each other, too?”

He frowned. “I don't think so.”

“Last night?”

“Pity comfort, nice. Good example.”

She rolled her eyes. “I just... I care too much to let you go, to let you suffer through this, and you said part of the reason why you changed—not the only reason, which is good—but part of it was me. Doesn't that mean that some good came out of it, too? I mean... what if we didn't meet? You said you'd still have killed Bud and that guy Woods.”

“I would have. Going from Bud to Woods wasn't any better, and he was... he was sick, Veronica. Bud handed me over to him like a prize when he wanted a zoning thing to go his way, and it was just one night but... he was... people have kinks, some weird ones, painful ones... he had them and more... he didn't quite make Eberhard seem tame, but pretty damned close. The only difference was that Eberhard had killed a lot more of the people he tortured. Woods... he let us live.”

She flinched. JD had never spoken of what Woods did before, just let the implication stand, and it was more than enough. “Did you leak the information that put him behind bars?”

“Yes. I couldn't leave him out there, free, to do that to anyone else again. It took a while before I was over Vegas enough to do it, but I did. I thought Eberhard was dead and I couldn't go back there, but I could make sure Woods rotted for the man he was.”

“Why didn't you kill him?”

JD pulled away from her. “The fuck kind of question is that?”

“A valid one. Yes, by the time you were free to deal with Woods, you'd already been a part of killing Heather and Kurt and Ram. Your father was dead. Everyone thought you were, too. You'd fought Eberhard and seemed to have won by setting Merrin against him. You were free, dead as far as anyone knew. You could have killed hundreds, thousands of people and gotten away with it. You were a ghost and no one knew you. You could have killed Woods and anyone else you wanted. So why didn't you? Why come out of that drug stupor and decide you were done with killing when it was obvious there were still people in this world that needed killing?”

“Are you expecting me to say you? I mean... it's flattering, I suppose, but I never intended to tell you I was alive. Ever.”

“Why not?”

“Because you'd turn me in.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“I suppose I'd have wanted to believe you wouldn't, and you haven't now, but I had no way of knowing for sure... last time we met before this, you tried to kill me. I had a reasonable expectation of how that was going to go down.”

She nodded. He did, but it was more than that. “Do you deserve to be happy?”

“What?” JD sat up. “You are asking the stupidest questions again. Of course I don't deserve that. You know what I've done, and I'm not just talking about Westerburg.”

She sighed. “So, if you could never be happy, never atone for what you did, what the hell did you do any of it for? Why bother being anything close to good if you didn't think something could come of it?”

He stared at her. “I don't think I want to know what you're getting at—”

“I'm suggesting that underneath the damage and the psychosis, the pain and the trauma, there was a part of you that was good all along and held onto it in spite of the abuse and the killing. You warped what you did—made a way to justify what you were doing. You wouldn't need justification if no part of you ever felt even a bit of remorse. You're not sorry about what you did because you felt like ridding the world of bullies was good. And yes, that means your moral compass is bent, but it's not completely gone, is it? Mine's bent. You know it is. Only for some reason, I'm allowed to live a normal life and deserve nothing but good. You think that. Don't deny it.”

“I did—what are you—Veronica, this is insane. You know there's no redemption in me, no goodness. No—”

“That's where the damage comes in, JD. If you had ever thought you were more than a tool for someone to use—your dad or the world, an instrument against the evils of it—then maybe you wouldn't have killed anyone.”

“That doesn't—”

“Bud handed you over like a prize, remember? You were just property to him. And you carried that with you to Sherwood where someone saw you as something that maybe was more than that, but it all went to hell so fast when Heather died. You found a sense of purpose, something bigger than him and what he'd put you through, and you were so desperate for one, you grabbed it and ran with it when there were thousands of other ways we could have had revenge on Ram and Kurt.”

“Are you done trying to twist everything to defend me?”

She sighed. “I don't—I can't defend you. I just... I was... Okay, maybe I'm twisting everything now. Maybe I need desperately to believe that there's more to you than killing and damage because I saw something then and felt something, too and I still do, and damn it, if that still exists, why the fuck does it have to be so wrong?”

He came back to her side, pulling her into his arms. “At the risk of proving your point... because it's me.”

She shook her head. “No. If there's something wrong with feeling something for you, then there's something wrong with me because I feel it. I keep telling myself not to, keep trying not to, but I do. I can't stop it. I don't want you to go despite every reason I have for leaving or telling you to get out. I want you here and I want to wake up with you and I want more than that.”

“Were you drinking last night?”

“Don't make jokes,” she said, hitting his chest. “Asshole.”

“Okay, say I concede and there is something wrong with you. What are we going to do about it? Get you into therapy again? Move you across the country—oh, no, not you. Me. So we'll send me off to some parts unknown and set up some other life and I will—”

“Marry me.”

“What?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JD reacts to what Veronica said.

* * *

“Veronica's gone insane, and I can't deal with this now.”

Enid looked up from her coffee, staring at her brother's back as he passed through the kitchen, her mind needing a moment to catch up with her. “Wait. Where are you going?”

Jay didn't answer, and she heard the door to the stairwell slam shut, making her wince. She took a breath and let it out, turning back to face Veronica. The other woman looked over at the door and shook her head with a curse.

“What just happened?”

“Your brother's refusal to accept that anything good can happen in his life reared its ugly head again,” Veronica said, rubbing her head as she went toward the coffee pot. “What do I do? Chase after him in my pajamas and make some grand gesture and declaration? That's romance novels and movies after they've fucked it up so badly that's the only way to fix it. This is... I finally know where I stand, and I think I know what I'm doing, and he tells me I'm crazy and leaves. Damn it.”

Enid studied her. “Does this mean what I think it means? No more dancing around it, you actually admit to feelings and love and stuff?”

Veronica snorted, filling up a cup. “It wasn't that I—there were always feelings, Enid. It was a matter of figuring out how strong they were and what they meant and if they were a product of the circumstances and just how far they went and how fucked up it is. Because it is. Don't deny it. It is. When JD and I were together, we killed people. We should not be together.”

Enid winced. “Okay, so saying anything now is like condoning that, but I don't. I just... I think that you and him have been through a lot, and while it doesn't excuse or make up for what you did do, you don't go around killing people now. Neither one of you does. Yeah, he's got an odd idea of a career, faking being a psychic or anything else he does, but he helps people. And you were an agent, and investigated stuff, and you stopped bad people. It can't really make it right, but at least you're not actively making it worse.”

“And that is the key to everything,” Veronica muttered darkly, taking a sip of her coffee. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Why, if JD goes all in when he does stuff—just look at this place for an example, he held nothing back when it came to buying this building or decorating it and making it habitable and useful for the business—is he so damned unwilling to accept when someone else does the same?”

“Is that a real question?” Enid asked. “Listen to what you just said. Jay is all in. He is completely and hopelessly in love with you, all denials and disclaimers about not understanding love aside. He can't handle the idea of you not being in it the same way, and because he is so damaged and you guys do have that very messed up past, he can't believe you are.”

Veronica sighed. “I tried to talk to him about that. He thinks there's nothing good in him, but underneath it all, there is. I can see it when he's with you. When you talk about the people he helped. When I... when he's with me. Hell, he worked with the two of us to fix Betty's marriage. How can he not see that there's more to him than Westerburg?”

“Um... in a word? Bud. I know I don't even know half of it, but that creep ruined Jay and my mom and if my mom thinks she's nothing because of one night, how do you think Jay feels after years with him?”

Veronica winced. “No, I know. I... I knew. I tried, but he's just—I don't know what to do. I wasn't lying. I was honest about how conflicted this thing makes me. I just... I like waking up with him. I like having him cook for me. I can't stand to see him in pain. I wanted so much to help him yesterday. We have things now we didn't have before—honesty being a bigger part of whatever this thing is between us when before _Ich luge_ was the sum and whole of it. I don't... It's stupid to say this time it's real.”

“Um, not exactly,” Enid said. “Before, he was hiding a lot. All that stuff with Bud, the acts he has to protect himself... He didn't show you everything. He was afraid to. He showed you the parts that were strong or seemed strong, but he couldn't show you the damage, the hurt. That's not how Jay works. He doesn't want people seeing that. I think his books would say he's afraid if that side shows, people will hurt him all over again. The sad part is it's true.”

“Not of everyone, but yeah,” Veronica agreed. She took a breath. “I just... I don't know how to convince him that I mean any of it.”

“Commitment?”

“I told him to marry me, and he told you I was crazy and left.”

“Oh.”

“And, it being your brother...”

Enid winced. “Shit. We might not get him back.”

* * *

“Drinking? Really? That's your solution to this?” Duke asked, sitting down next to Veronica, who managed a small shrug. Enid just flipped her off, lifting up her glass. “Come on. Please tell me the two of you are not that pathetic.”

“If you have a better solution for finding a man who does not want to be found with the ability and resources to disappear forever and not resurface, I'm all ears,” Veronica muttered, reaching for her glass again. She needed more. This was not enough. She couldn't believe she'd finally figured things out only to have JD think that her decision was insane and leave.

Not just for a few hours, either. Not for a day.

He'd been gone for over a week now, and there was no sign at all of him coming back. No contact with Enid or her, his car still sitting in the garage, and ownership of the building quietly transferred over to the business along with enough money for its maintenance for the next two months.

JD had gone to ground. Again.

“Being mopey shits isn't going to change anything,” Duke said, flagging down the waiter and ordering a strong drink for herself, nothing for them. “I tell you to make up your mind, and you screw it up. Classy work there, Veronica.”

“It's not Veronica's fault my brother is a damaged idiot,” Enid said, lifting her glass and studying it. “I don't think Jay knows what to do with anything good in his life.”

“Wait. This is because you told him you wanted him?”

“Essentially, yes. I said I wanted to be married for real, and he decided I was crazy.”

Duke shook her head. “You two are a mess. A big, fucking mess.”

“They are, and it's almost cute when it's not infuriating,” Enid agreed. “I had a few thoughts about what might draw him back—”

“She's the one that's insane,” Veronica said. “She thinks we should plan a wedding anyway and have it all ready for him to show back up and then when he does spring it on him so he can't run again and that's assuming we get him back and you should hear the plan for that—she wants to make him think I'm in danger so he comes back but if he does... it's not even like he wants to... and that's not right. It's just... not.”

“How many of these has she had?” Duke asked, picking up Veronica's glass.

“Not enough,” Veronica said. “You can worry when I agree to Enid's crazy ass plans, okay?”

Enid glared at her. “Like yours is any better. Accepting this is not an option. Jay is too messed up to be out there on his own. He self-destructed before, and he can't do it again. I don't care if there's not a case this time—and I am going to blame you for not getting us work when it would have kept him around. He wouldn't have taken off in the middle of a case even if you two were fighting. Not that this is a fight. It's something else and so screwed up it's you, but seriously, if you'd just gotten us a case, he'd be stuck here.”

“And keeping him here like that is any better?” Veronica demanded. “You know it isn't. He needs to understand that running isn't the answer. And he needs to be able to believe that I meant it, or we'll be back here in a couple of weeks or months or years. It doesn't matter. If he can't believe I love him, then he'll do this again.”

Duke rolled her eyes. “Okay, I can see why she's plastered, but you, Enid? He's your brother. He'll contact you again.”

“You wish. Our relationship doesn't work that way.”

“He has a fucked up relationship with you, too?”

“Yes. Last time he disappeared he said he'd keep in touch with me. He lied. It was awesome.”

Veronica didn't want to think about this right now. They should have stayed home and done their drinking there, but somehow everything in the apartment reminded her of JD, and she couldn't stand it any longer, so Enid's suggestion to get a drink to take the edge off seemed like a good one, but now it just felt as empty as she did.

“I need out,” she told Duke. “Ladies room.”

Duke sighed, reluctantly moving so that Veronica could get out, and she rose, heading toward the back of the bar, wishing she and Enid hadn't gone for the first one they'd found, since this one was a little too niche, with its neon lights and would be rave scene.

Veronica was going to have a headache from the lights alone. She didn't know what she was thinking. She wasn't that young anymore. She wasn't someone who'd get drunk, dance with some stranger, and somehow forget that she'd managed to fuck up the most fucked up relationship in history. Well, maybe not, but sometimes it had to be close.

She went to the sink, running water and splashing it on her face. She didn't feel any better, hadn't since JD left the other morning, each day making that more and more real.

Would it have been better if she'd held back and not said anything? They could have gone on like they were, maybe with a bit of work to keep them occupied, and they could have had years of a weird roommate limbo to convince him to stick around, and it would have been okay.

Not great, not since she knew that she wanted more than that, but if it took that painfully slow process, why shouldn't they do it? It wasn't like they needed to rush or anything.

She dried off her face and hands and left the restroom, heading back to the table. She must have gone too close to the dance floor because someone caught hold of her and pulled her toward the middle of the floor.

“I'm not here to dance, and you're going to regret doing that,” she warned as she turned to face the jerk who'd assumed she was here to dance and wanted to be manhandled.

“I expect you'll make me pay for every second of the last week or so,” he agreed, and she just stared, completely confused.

“You... left.”

“I tried to,” JD corrected. “Had it all set up and ready. Moved the building over from the shell company to the business, transferred some money... It was all supposed to be done, and I was supposed to be gone.”

“And you're not.”

He sighed, leaning his head down against hers. “How pathetic is it that I wanted to believe you hadn't gone crazy and really meant it?”

“Not pathetic because I did and I'm still pissed at you for not believing me about it,” she said, though a part of her wasn't sure that was right. Pathetic was the wrong word for it, and she was angry, so mad that he'd gone off and left like that, scaring the hell out of her and Enid and making them think he wasn't coming back again, and after what happened last time, she really didn't want to think about what might happen to him.

“I don't... you were right about me... I can't accept anything good as... mine, as something I could ever... deserve,” he said, reaching up to touch her cheek. “And you... us... it's so much and not right, no one would ever say it was—”

“Enid does.”

“Enid is biased and a little off her own self.” He stepped back, lifting her chin and getting her to look at him. “You really think after what we did that happiness for us—between us—is possible? That it's even an option?”

“Maybe it isn't, but that doesn't mean either of us doesn't want it,” she said. “I did a lot of thinking. I didn't—this isn't me going in blind or making something out of the strange situation we were in. Okay, maybe sharing an apartment had something to do with it, but it... it was those quiet moments I wanted. Not the things we did before, but the stupid small stuff. Shopping together. You cooking. Eating together. Sharing coffee in the morning. Sleeping next to you. Those small little stupid things couples take for granted. I wanted them, and maybe they shouldn't be enough to want all of it, but I do. I want you and us and whatever we can have together in spite of what we've done and how much we've fucked up our lives.”

“Hmm,” he said, and she almost smacked him for it, since it was clear he didn't believe her. Again.

“If you're going to be an ass, I'm going to leave. I don't need this. I've told you where I stand. You can either accept that or not and I—”

He kissed her, and she moaned, really wishing he wasn't as good at getting that reaction from her as he was, but he knew her well, all the things that had worked in the past and still did now.

He let go, resting his head next to hers again. “I need you to say it. It's not fair, because I don't... I can't. Not without... amendments and disclaimers, but I have to hear it.”

She almost understood that, and as unfair as it was, it wasn't like she doubted for a second that he loved her. He didn't love himself, and that was a whole different mess they'd have to worry about later, but if this was what it took to get him to stay, she could put a name to what she felt.

“I love you. Now are you going to stop running or not?”

“I might have to,” he said. “You used the shampoo.”

She couldn't help it, she laughed, leaning against him. “You are such an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“I do,” she agreed. “So get over yourself and marry me already.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, yes, I think I will leave things here for now. It's not all perfect, nothing with these two ever will be, but they worked through some of it, and they'd just have to keep doing that forever, so... here is a good place to leave them. For now.


End file.
